Okay, so what was normal? It sure as hell isn’t me. So is it the average American white family? With their clothes all starched and their kids in suits and dresses? And they all come together at dinner or breakfast and eat like one big happy family? Like they don’t fight none or get on each other’s nerves? Or is it the hard working man, with barely enough money to support his small family? A family that doesn’t seem to have it quite figured out or quite right to sustain, yet somehow they find a way. They still seem to be surviving somehow, through all their toils.. They come together at mealtimes to eat what they have, and sometimes they get on each other’s nerves. But you know what? That’s normal man. It’s common, godammit, to not be a perfect family. The poor and struggling family is the real one.. the humble one.. the normal one.

I’m not alone and I don’t have company either.. I’m a wandering soul looking for a place to rest. A place to sit, sleep, eat, lie, ******* Somethin’! anything! Just a place for the weary traveler to gather his thoughts and ease his mind. Hell, just a place to be normal I guess.

I wouldn’t call myself a poet and I wouldn’t call myself a writer. I’m not too sure about anything in my life right now. I didn’t even know I was born until the doctor’s told me so.. But I can tell you one thing that’s for sure: It’s that I’m living. ******* right I’m living. I’m out in the world, making love to the American Dream and ******* on the ones that tell me to do otherwise. I’m tearing down walls and raising hell in the streets at night. I’m snorting things, popping things, drinking things, and living a totally ****** up life. But hey man, what’s wrong with it? What’s wrong if I wanna live this way? You never seemed to have cared much when I was around any who.. So *******.

Sleep is a thing for the weak… the underprivileged youth of America. It’s for those who do not have any true grit. Something the busy and spontaneous folk do not acknowledge. We have no need for it. We have our drugs, our energy, and our freedom.

I’m going to go into a depression here, shortly. But that’s okay, because it’s bound to happen one way or another. The best thing is to be prepared. But you see, I am not prepared, nor do I think I ever will be. Dealing with depression is all a manner of tying the noose… or even slipping it. I had let myself go.. All I once stood for was lost amongst the poor feelings and laziness that clouded my whole existence. This is what depression feels like, kid.

I've seen you change over the years, from a carefree and delightful fellow into the cold and lost soul you are now.
What constituted this? The answer is simple: change
Tensions grew, she didn't love you anymore, and we all bid you farewell.
We moved on as you sat in sadness. With us, we took your happiness. And as delightful as I seem, I am still brooding upon myself to this day. I regret the times I did not cherish, and the times I was ungrateful. Or those times I showed you nothing but scorn. I can never forgive myself for those times I had missed. The pain I endure is insufferable.. I will forever carry this burden upon my back.

Who was I and what was I doing? I had learned that I was one of the many people who have been lost. We were all trying to figure out something big and great. And perhaps we did figure it out.. Maybe we were all just too blind to see it.

No one gets me.. Not even my own mother. And that’s okay, cos no one really is supposed to get anyone. Where would all the fun in life be if we got people? There wouldn't be any fun.. life is an experiment, and throughout this experiment we test ourselves. We learn, we love, we hate, we cry and sleep and die and pass out and embrace and live.. all at one time. We learn throughout the experiment the true essence of ourselves, but never of other people. And maybe in the end, we never did quite figure ourselves out.